Dichotomy
by Ruthie
Summary: Parts 9 and 10 back online 01-19! Sam froze. She was tripping. Had to be. Imagining things. She was totally making up the image of Baal, sat in O’Malleys, System Lord Baal raising his glass to her with a selfsatisfied smile on his lips.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Dichotomy 

Rating: M (Mature teens, 13+)

Spoilers: Upgrades, Abyss, Ex Deus Machina

Summary: Opposites attract, but when good and evil merge there are dangerous consequences for a member of SG-1.

Author Notes: Sam/Baal pairing. I took the premise of Ba'al being on Earth from Ex Deus Machina and my muse is responsible for the rest. You've been forewarned about the pairing, too, so don't shout at me! (Hides under bed) My first prime will deal with any flames, so don't waste your time.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognisable characters and places are the property of MGM, World Gekko Corp and Double Secret productions. This piece of fan fiction was created for entertainment not monetary purposes and no infringement on copyrights or trademarks was intended. Previously unrecognised characters and places, and this story, are copyrighted to the author. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead is coincidental and not intended by the author.

Dedication: For Sarah, always.

Dichotomy

Copyright (c) June 2006, Ruth

(A Dichotomy is "a division between two usually contradictory parts or opinions")

As she pushed open the door to O'Malleys, Sam felt reassured by the familiar blend of noise, light and smells which had continually drawn she and her team-mates here for almost a decade. A rush of smoky warmth from the bar brought a flush to her cheeks, contrasting with the cold night outside.

Glancing around at the other people in the bar as she took her usual seat, Sam felt a twinge of regret. Sure, she loved the guys and everything they had shared over the past few years, but she couldn't help but feel that something had been neglected, wasted. It was something she might never be able to retrieve. At the present moment, she couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was, only that it remained important to her; an issue which needed to be addressed.

No, she thought, jerking herself from melancholy before she became too self-indulgent, it's been a hard week and you need a drink. Better still, you need to relax, get away from the job, and just be Sam for the day, not Colonel Carter. Which was easier said than done, she had to admit. Walking over to the bar, she had the most peculiar feeling of eyes burning into her back, but dismissed it as just that: peculiar; a result of being abducted and tortured by too many crazed lunatics, both alien and non-alien.

Ignoring her instinct, she returned to her seat, determined to attempt this "relaxation" that her ex- CO had so often banged on about. It was strange without him at the SGC; his constant interference in her lab, his monopoly of the commissary jello and his reckless disregard for authority. Casting her tired eyes over to the pool table, at the group of teenagers hooting and slapping each other on the back, she smiled at the memory of their own experience there, nearly six years ago. Anise's armbands had resulted in a helluva lot of trouble; Sam was surprised that they were still allowed in, after their alien-technology-enhanced fight with the pool table guys.

Taking a sip of her drink she sat back a little further in the chair, sinking into the soft leather with a sigh. She felt warm and safe here, in her corner booth, shielded from most of the other occupants of the bar. Happily unaware that her comfort and seclusion was about to be seriously compromised…

O

He studied her carefully over the rim of his glass. Yes, coming this close to Cheyenne Mountain had been a serious risk, one which his jaffa had repeatedly reminded him of, but now he was beginning to reap its rewards.

He was a gambler. Knowing enough of SG-1, he predicted that at least one, if not the lot of them (that is, those who remained after the departure of their beloved Colonel) would be here tonight. He smirked at the memory of his prisoner; such a strong and able warrior, famed throughout the universe and responsible for the deaths of many of his forefathers, had been so close to begging for death at his hand. The sense of power which rose within him at the thought of this was partially responsible for his bravado in venturing so close to Stargate Command.

Casting his eyes back to the solitary female in the corner of O'Malleys, he studied her with some interest. He had always viewed the SGC uniforms with a large degree of distaste, and now he could see what he had been unable to before. She wore knee-high suede boots with a long skirt that fell just below her knee. A deep red wrap-around top completed her outfit; sexy but understated, sophisticated but reserved. He liked it. Reflecting for a moment upon his non-existent love life, he took another sip of his drink.

He felt a pull of attraction towards her, there was no denying it, but he was placing himself in an extremely dangerous situation by even appearing in the same room as her. To make his presence known would be insane; his cover would be blown and his plans for Earth would be at an end. He was as of yet unsure as to whether this could all be risked for the sake of a female. Not just any female, he granted, but still, she was virtually insignificant in his grander scheme of action.

Still she had not noticed him. He was torn between the pragmatic and the personal; to gratify himself or to be cautious, to mind his long-term plans and bide his time, until the Earth would bow at his feet. He leant further back in his chair, observing his henchmen who were dotted around the bar, unbeknownst to Colonel Carter. He smiled in the knowledge that she was completely unaware of the situation she could so easily be placed in. With but one command he could bring the place to its knees, and her along with it.

He flirted with temptation a few moments more.

O

Reaching the end of her drink, Sam was continually pestered by her conscience; something was not right. It was a feeling akin to that when she could detect the presence of naquadah in a person's body, but it couldn't possibly be that feeling. She was on Earth; there were no Goa'uld here, no Tok'ra, and no naquadah. In fact, the only person exhibiting this trait was she herself, which left her feeling tired and even more confused. Maybe her senses were on overdrive, maybe she needed sleep or another drink, or maybe…

…just maybe, she was right?

Suspiciously she glanced around the room once more. She had kept her eye on a bald, short gentleman who had been hovering by the entrance to the bar for nearly an hour, and who had been making frequent eye contact with another at the opposite wall, by the back exit. Yes, she decided, something was definitely up. Her heart began to thump harder in her chest, and a feeling of fear mixed with irritation was building in her gut.

Just one night; just for one night she couldn't have the day off? Couldn't avoid the trappings of her work, the unusual occurrences, and the malevolent conspiracies? Slamming her glass down on the table she fumed quietly. Maybe this isn't to do with me at all; she thought, attempting to calm herself. It's a big bar, serves a large area of town - maybe they're undercover cops, doing a drugs bust or something.

It sounded pathetic to her even as she thought it. But what to do? She couldn't stay rooted to the spot for the rest of the night, but she wasn't sure of what would happen if she moved. Maybe she should just have another drink, she considered irrationally, the whole experience would be easier were she intoxicated.

No, come back to Earth, Sam said under her breath, reaching for her bag. First she should ascertain whether she in fact was under any sort of threat. Making as if to get up, she watched the bald man and his friend closely. As she rose, his head jerked around, but as he caught her eyes he attempted to look impartial, turning to look at a sign on the wall. Her blood ran cold. Oh, they were definitely after her.

Sitting back down with a thud, she swallowed and tried to kick her brain into action. Could she call Teal'c or Daniel? That would only create a scene, besides she wasn't sure if she should get the others involved; who would be left behind to…to find her if she…It didn't bear thinking about. She felt a flush rise to her cheeks and tried to ignore the pounding of her heart in her ears…

TO BE CONTINUED…

Author's Note: My first fic for just over a year - please feel free to send feedback by clicking on my name. I always appreciate constructive comments.


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Dichotomy pt 2 

Rating: FR-M

Spoilers: Upgrades, Abyss, Ex Deus Machina

Summary: Sam froze. She was tripping. Had to be. Imagining things. She was totally making up the image of Baal, sat in O'Malleys, System Lord Baal - raising his glass to her with a self-satisfied smile on his lips.

Author Notes: Sam/Baal pairing. I took the premise of Ba'al being on Earth from Ex Deus Machina and my muse is responsible for the rest. You've been forewarned about the pairing, too, so don't shout at me! (Hides under bed) My first prime will deal with any flames, so don't waste your time.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognisable characters and places are the property of MGM, World Gekko Corp and Double Secret productions. This piece of fan fiction was created for entertainment not monetary purposes and no infringement on copyrights or trademarks was intended. Previously unrecognised characters and places, and this story, are copyrighted to the author. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead is coincidental and not intended by the author.

Dedication: For Sarah, always.

Dichotomy pt 2

Copyright (c) July 2006, Ruth

O

Baal glared at the man responsible for alerting Colonel Carter to the threat she faced. He looked suitably abashed and turned again to read what was on the wall. It appeared that, for Baal, temptation had made her decision for him. As long as Carter was aware of something awry, he could not allow her to leave alone. She would report her suspicions to her colleagues, which would lead to investigation and possibly uncovering his work on their planet.

No. The situation needed to be diffused as rapidly as possible, without a floor show for the remaining occupants of the bar. He sat up more in his chair, and waited for the moment to gain her attention. Whilst shrugging into his coat, he spoke softly into the phone concealed in his pocket, before replacing it and ordering another drink. He had plenty of time to wait, he thought as he watched his henchmen begin to disperse, some to the front and others out the back. She wouldn't be leaving the bar alone tonight, that much was for certain.

He watched her panic in her seat, the way she flushed and the slight, ever so slight, trembling of her hand. He didn't take his eyes from her, hoping to attract her attention sooner now, rather than later. However, it was apparently ineffective. With a growl of impatience, he looked over at the bar, the growl becoming a smile as a thought hit him. Of course, how simple. How he had not thought of it before was beyond him.

O

Sam fidgeted uncomfortably in her seat, flinching as the barman walked in her direction, a solitary drink on his tray. Lowering her gaze to her shoes, she willed the panic she felt rising from deep within her to disperse, to be channelled into her brain in the way it normally did; to produce some clarity and direction from the overdose of adrenaline flooding her body.

It took all of her restraint not to gasp as the barman stopped before her, placing another drink on the table.

"From the gentleman in the far corner," he explained, walking away.

She looked for the first time in that direction, and froze. No. No, she was tripping. Had to be. Imagining things. She was totally making up the image of Baal, sat in O'Malleys, System Lord Baal - raising his glass to her with a self-satisfied smile on his lips. He was a Goa'uld, there were no Goa'uld on Earth, no Goa'uld…Earth…

The panic, which had been slowly spiralling around in her belly, exploded suddenly and she jerked from her seat, shocking the couple next to her. Ignoring their dry comments, she kept her eyes on Baal as she made her way towards the exit. She was surprised, and more than a little unnerved, when he made no move to follow her. Instead, he relaxed further back in his chair and smiled, a smile that was almost seductive, his dark eyes never leaving hers. A shiver coursed through her body as she pulled open the door; but whether it was due to the night air or her close encounter, she could not be sure.

A moment too late she recalled the dodgy-looking men who had been loitering around the door, and found her cry for help obscured by a warm leather glove, felt a strong arm around her waist dragging her back from the door. She struggled against her captor with as much ferocity as she could manage, but her hands were fast behind her back and she was unable to speak. Squirming in the strong hold, she opened her mouth and bit down hard on the hand that covered it.

The hand dropped, its owner emitting a loud curse and momentarily lessening his grip on her. She took the opportunity and lurched away, only to find herself sprawled face down on the tarmac moments later, a throbbing pain in the right side of her face and the taste of blood in her mouth. Temporarily winded, she gasped at the pain when air hit her lungs, and became gradually aware of a low chuckling from behind her. She didn't need to turn around to know from whom it came.

"Don't try that again, my love," he said, his voice low and threatening, but with a lilt of condescension as she spat blood onto the ground. He bent down and hauled her roughly to her feet by the collar of her coat, his assistant taking control of her arms once more. She glared at him from beneath her lashes and made one last, futile struggle against the arms restraining her.

Baal reached into the pocket of his coat and pulled out a thin, metallic-looking object. Sam's eyes widened as the moonlight glinted off of it to reveal a syringe, full of something she didn't even want to contemplate.

"Hold her," he warned his accomplice as she tried to shrug him off of her once more.

As she felt the cool metal of the needle pierce her skin she cried out into the hand covering her mouth, but rapidly melted into darkness as she felt her knees give way beneath her, her body crumpling rapidly to the ground before she lost consciousness completely.

O

When Sam regained consciousness she was vaguely aware of movement; nausea overwhelmed her and she kept her eyes closed, drawing a deep breath before she tried to sit up or move.

"It was more for my protection than for yours," a smug voice informed her.

Sam opened her eyes and came face to face with Baal. Damn, she thought, so it wasn't just a really, really bad dream! Slumping back down to the…whatever she was lying on, her consciousness began its rhetorical tirade. Typical, just typical. My first downtime in a month and I'm captured by a System Lord. At home! Just a few miles from my house. Talk about bad luck. Really, why does it always have to be me?

He watched her, a smile playing around his lips as she tried to analyse the situation she was in. Judging by her compliance, she had realised that there was no escape and her best option was to remain still. However, judging by the injuries she had inflicted upon his accomplice, it may have just been a result of the drugs and he wasn't going to take any chances.

"Passionate creature, aren't you?" he laughed, stroking his finger across her cheek with an air of smug superiority which only maddened her further.

"Yeah? Well, you'd be "passionate" if you'd been kidnapped AGAIN on your own planet with nobody to know where the hell you'd been taken, nobody to feed your cat…"

She was rambling, and she knew it. Hell, she didn't even have a cat any more. Must have been whatever he injected me with, she mused. Swallowing back the bile which had risen once more in her throat she pulled herself into a sitting position, biting her lip against the pain which rose in her chest when she attempted this. Her eyes met his, dark and volcanic, and a spark of something passed between them which she felt burn in her chest. She dropped her gaze.

"What are you doing here?" she took an unsteady breath, "And what the hell have I got to do with it?"

"You, my love, are quite insignificant to my being here," he replied in a bored tone, "However once you had been alerted to the presence of the naquadah in my blood, I could not allow you to leave. You would have raised suspicion among your colleagues and I may have been discovered."

"So you decided to capture me instead?" she snapped, not hiding her sarcasm, "Smart move. They'll never come looking for me now."

"My dear Colonel," he purred, stalking forwards until his knees grazed hers, "How will they know where to look?" He took her chin in his hand and brushed his thumb across her lower lip, "It will not occur to them that you are right under their noses."

His face was inches from hers, those dark eyes so expressive and dangerous, boring into her even as they danced with sadistic amusement. He laughed and she felt his warm breath against her face, instantly repulsed by him, despite the reaction of her body to such proximity of another man. It had been such a long time, after all… But no. Ignoring the ache low in her belly she closed her eyes and tried to shift her body away from him, to the side. This was difficult considering that her hands and feet were bound by something and his strength was virtually unmatched.

"You cannot escape," he smiled, "That I promise you."

He withdrew then to watch her from a distance, but he had felt that same spark pass between them a few moments earlier. He wasn't entirely sure what it meant, but longed to find out. They continued travelling; it would not be much longer until they arrived at his base, a large complex just outside of Colorado Springs, which was near enough to keep an eye on the Earth's Stargate and simultaneously too close to arouse their suspicions. He crossed his arms and sat back against the interior of the vehicle, a satisfied expression on his face as he contemplated what to do with his latest guest.

O

To Be Continued…

Author's Note: Oooh! Feedback, anyone? I always answer and appreciate emails. Just click on my name. See you next chapter!


	3. Chapter 3

Title: Dichotomy pt3

Rating: FR-M

Spoilers: Abyss, Ex Deus Machina

Summary: Sam came to realise that she was tied to a chair, a very hard one at that. This was deliberate on his part; she had made his life uncomfortable and now he would return the favour. Although, she thought grimly, this chair is probably the least of my problems.

Author Notes: Sam/Baal pairing. I took the premise of Ba'al being on Earth from Ex Deus Machina and my muse is responsible for the rest. You've been forewarned about the pairing, too, so don't shout at me! (hides under bed) My first prime will deal with any flames, so don't waste your time.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognisable characters and places are the property of MGM, World Gekko Corp and Double Secret productions. This piece of fan fiction was created for entertainment not monetary purposes and no infringement on copyrights or trademarks was intended. Previously unrecognised characters and places, and this story, are copyrighted to the author. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead is coincidental and not intended by the author.

Dedication: For Sarah, always.

Dichotomy pt3

Copyright (c) July 2006, Ruth

Sam felt the vehicle judder to a halt beneath her and sat very still, her brain desperately attempting to analyse this new situation she found herself in. What did he want from her? Where was she being taken? Her thoughts were interrupted by his hand, suddenly gripping her arm.

"Are you going to behave, or do I have to sedate you again?" he asked, his eyes reflecting the moonlight in the darkness of the car.

"Bite me!" she snapped, turning her face away from him as the doors behind her were opened.

"Maybe later," he said in a low voice, which left her in no doubt as to whether or not he would fulfil this request.

It was the dead of night; this she could tell from the silence and opacity which surrounded her as she was roughly removed from the vehicle. She had no idea where she was, or how long she had been travelling. A shove at the small of her back almost sent her sprawling onto the ground once more, but with a little effort she recovered her balance and began to walk forwards, into the night which promised anything but rest for her.

"You see how much easier this becomes with your co-operation?" Ba'al said smoothly, still gripping her arm.

"Nothing to do with the needle full of god-knows-what that you stuffed in me!" she snapped, willing the pounding in her head to subside.

He laughed, then, and the sound was lost in the thick, night air. She could only feel his breath on the back of her neck, his hand on her arm as he forced her to walk forwards, into uncertainty and darkness.

"Your insolence never fails to amuse me," he said, suddenly stopping short behind his henchmen as they did something ahead. Sam strained to see in the darkness, but all that she could hear was a faint clicking sound, which could have been anything from a pen to a bomb. There was no moon that night. Sam finally decided that rational thought was not something which she could achieve; instead she concentrated on remaining conscious, at least partially aware of what was going on around her.

"Leave the lights", Ba'al ordered as they moved forwards once more, "We wouldn't want to give our guest any clue as to our location."

His smugness came across the night air in waves and it irritated Sam even more. She cursed herself for having made that journey to O'Malleys on foot - they wouldn't even notice her absence until she failed to turn up for work the following week. She was vaguely aware of having been moved inside, as the cold air no longer rushed about her face. Instead, she was shoved forwards and her feet found the bottom of a flight of stairs.

Her brain began working in overdrive. Yes, this was a bad situation. Understatement; this was a very bad situation. However, the darkness might work in her favour; she couldn't see the henchmen but logically, this meant that they couldn't see her. Surely she would be able to make some sort of escape, or attempt at getting help? Her decision was made; after all, she had nothing to lose.

O

She stopped on the stair, causing Ba'al, who was still holding onto her arm, to jar his own at the sudden inertia in her movement. He cursed her and moved to drag her further, but she gathered all of her strength and wrenched her arm from his grasp, throwing her body to the side and away from him. Unfortunately, adrenaline gave her more strength than she had anticipated, and she found herself tumbling backwards down the stairs which she had just climbed. She heard his angry shouts above her, but a split second later her breath was knocked out of her as she landed, hard, on the floor.

Move! Move! Her mind screamed, the last traces of adrenaline forcing her limbs into action. She was only vaguely aware of the stinging in her legs and back as she tried to re-trace her steps, but was unable to get outside. Instead, she appeared to be trapped in a labyrinthine series of corridors and rooms from which there was no easy escape, particularly not in the dark.

Hindsight oh so helpfully informed her that this was perhaps not the greatest decision that she had ever made. In fact, it was the second stupidest mistake she had made that evening, second only to her decision to have a quiet, relaxing drink at O'Malley's, which had turned out to be nothing of the sort. She stopped, and fell forwards against the nearest wall, gasping for the breath which had been ripped from her lungs, sliding to the floor in defeat. At least she had tried.

She felt a hand grab the back of her collar and drag her to her feet, but even as she struggled against him she knew that she was done, her energy was gone. She knew it was him before he spoke; the smell of him filled her nostrils and made her eyes sting even worse than before.

"Why, I do love a challenge," he chuckled, the sound sending a shiver down her spine. He took hold of her arms and pulled her back against him, speaking low in her ear. "You shouldn't have done that, Samantha." Then, she felt a blinding pain in her temple and slumped against him, but after that she knew nothing at all.

O

Pain.

The first thing which her battered mind registered upon awakening was pain. This was swiftly followed by nausea, dizziness and then the bliss of unconsciousness. The second time she was not so lucky, and remained awake long enough to attract the attention of her perspicacious captor.

"You have only yourself to blame, my love" he said softly, approaching her with a smirk on his face, "I believe I was perfectly civil towards you before your little escape attempt."

Sam tried to move, but found herself unable to do so. Swallowing the nausea which rose as she moved her head too quickly, she shifted her body about and came to realise that she was tied to a chair, a very hard one at that. No doubt this was deliberate on his part, she had made his life uncomfortable and now he would return the favour. Although, she thought grimly, this chair is probably the least of my problems.

"Yes, I have never been drugged, kidnapped and beaten with more civility," she ground out through a bruised jaw, raising her eyes to examine him as he stood before her.

"Perhaps you should try to accept this situation with a little more grace" he said calmly, getting down until he was at eye level with her. "After all, I have no intention of harming you, quite the opposite…"

She didn't like the look on his face as he said this. Blatantly suggestive, it annoyed her as much as the arrogance and she groaned in frustration as she tried to pull herself out of her restraints. Exhausted from the effort, she sagged back against the chair and contemplated him with a cool stare, the best she could manage in her incapacitated position.

"If you have no intention of harming me, why am I tied to a chair?" she asked pointedly, looking him directly in the eyes. He seemed to relish this, thrive on it, and returned the gaze with an intensity which brought a flush to her pale cheeks.

"You have already proven your…ardent nature in these matters, my lady. I cannot allow you to escape and alert your colleagues to my presence here." He licked his lips slowly, deliberately. "You are my guest until such a time as I see fit."

"Fabulous," was her only response, a sarcastic and O'Neill -esque one which was all too familiar to Ba'al.

"I see that O'Neill's insolence has rubbed off on you," he commented, "Though I warn you that if you persist in doing this, my lenience will run out."

Despite the dangerous edge in his voice which warned her to be silent, Sam found her frustration exploding as she looked at him incredulously, before tugging at her restraints once more for good measure.

"Lenience? What the hell? This is lenient? You said it yourself, I'm insignificant, but I must be fairly significant for you to feel the need to drug me, beat me and tie me to a chair!"

He said nothing for a moment, studying her face with rather more interest than Sam was comfortable with. Her outburst had left her a little breathless; she concentrated on his movements as she willed her ragged breathing to subside.

"Are you quite finished?" he asked softly, with the air of a parent talking to a troublesome child.

She glared at him across the room, but decided that perhaps silence was her best option - for the moment at least.

"You are fully aware of how unpleasant I can make your life, Samantha;" he said her name slowly, rolling it on his tongue. She shuddered, whether this was due to his not-so-veiled threat or his use of her full name, she wasn't sure. "I assure you, this is lenience. I trust you are not anxious to explore other possibilities which are less so?"

A defiant scowl was her response to his pompous and arrogant threat. She was still seething; disproportionately so considering her situation (possibly life-threatening, if she kept pissing him off.) The most powerful System Lord in the galaxy was hardly the person at whom she should be directing several years' worth of pent up anger.

She sagged back in the chair once more, her body aching from the effort of her anger and attempts to escape. Her little backwards-down-the-stairs manoeuvre had left her bruised and dizzy, she must have hit her head when she hit the floor; the searing pain of a pulled muscle throbbed down her right side. She closed her eyes in an effort to fend off the nausea which had now returned to her.

In doing this, she had failed to notice him cross the room to stand behind her, but then she felt his breath on the back of her neck and jumped, jarring her injured side which caused her to let out a hiss of pain.

"Just be quiet, my love," he soothed, his long, elegant fingers stroking through her hair.

Killers' fingers, she thought, with a sudden rush of horror. Those hands which had let loose the daggers and acid which had tormented Jack time and time again during his capture. Hands which had restrained her, drugged her, beaten her…

He lowered his mouth from her ear to her neck, and to her disgust he began to place kisses at her throat.

"Bastard," she groaned softly through the pain in her head, and tried to shift her body away from him in the chair.

He laughed then, the malicious, cruel laugh that she and her team mates were used to. Then, she felt a sharp pain in her arm, which was equally familiar to her, before she succumbed to the bliss of unconsciousness. 

O

To be Continued…

Author's Note: The story continues…Please continue to send feedback, let me know what you think by clicking on my name. Comments are always appreciated. See you next chapter! 


	4. Chapter 4

Title: Dichotomy pt4

Rating: FR-M

Spoilers: Reckoning pt2, Ex Deus Machina

Summary: "Yeah, so what's next? You gonna tie me to a hot-tub?" she demanded, despite the rational part of her subconscious which suggested that she should perhaps not be pissing him off so much.

Author Notes: Sam/Baal pairing. I took the premise of Ba'al being on Earth from Ex Deus Machina and my muse is responsible for the rest. You've been forewarned about the pairing, too, so don't shout at me! (hides under bed) My first prime will deal with any flames, so don't waste your time.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognisable characters and places are the property of MGM, World Gekko Corp and Double Secret productions. This piece of fan fiction was created for entertainment not monetary purposes and no infringement on copyrights or trademarks was intended. Previously unrecognised characters and places, and this story, are copyrighted to the author. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead is coincidental and not intended by the author.

Dedication: For Sarah, always.

Dichotomy pt4

Copyright (c) July 2006, Ruth

O

Author's Note EXTRA: Just wanted to say a big THANK YOU to all those reviewers who are giving this somewhat unorthodox pairing a chance…comments are always appreciated, keep 'em coming! Now, on with the story…

O

Awareness returned to her slowly. Unfortunately, it came by degrees and not at once; the more aware she became, the more she was disturbed by her situation.

She was awake, thus she was still alive. This was good.

She was no longer tied to the chair. This was also good.

She was definitely no longer upright, in fact she was laying down on something soft, probably a bed, she guessed. This was… out of character for Ba'al. Why give her a bed after kidnapping, beating and drugging her?

No, this was no longer good.

In fact, when a level of awareness, such that she was able to move, returned to her she found out just how 'not-good' it was.

She was tied to the bed.

Now, this was when her somewhat confused and battered brain went into overdrive. There were two possibilities here; (1) she was tied to 'her' bed, in the same way that she had been tied to 'her' chair, to prevent her escape. Sam could just about rationalise this. However, it could also be (2); she was tied to 'his' bed, which contained so many sub-possibilities that it made her head hurt just to think about it. None of these sub-possibilities were anything that she even wanted to think about, particularly in the light of his behaviour before she had passed out again. Her skin still burned from the touch of his hands, his lips; she felt nauseated to have allowed him that sort of contact with her.

Not that I could have done anything about it, her brain reminded her; I was, after all, tied to a chair. No - what she needed to concentrate on now was a way to remove herself from this particular situation and its possible consequences. She tried to flex her arms, lifting her upper body from the bed. No luck - both of her arms were tied at the wrist to the bed. She tried to move her legs, but again found that her ankles were secured to the end of the bed.

"For crying out loud!" she moaned in frustration, kicking with her feet, despite knowing that this action was entirely futile. She pulled at the restraints around her wrists, jerking her body to the side, testing their strength. They held fast - of course they would, Ba'al was no fool when it came to her so-called "ardent" nature.

O

Jerk, she thought angrily. Why the hell did he have to be in Colorado Springs anyway? Earth was huge, he could have gone anywhere, kidnapped anybody from their quiet, local bar…but why her? Out of however-many-billion people there were on the face of the planet, he just HAD to pick her to kidnap and tie to things…I mean, what were the figures involved there? To take her mind off of her impending…whatever…she tried to calculate the variables involved.

It did occur to her that anger was perhaps not the most constructive use of her energy, but she was too tired and cross to care, something which only increased when she heard a deep, amused laugh from somewhere in the room.

"Oh, I wondered when you'd show up again," she snapped, her hands balling into fists as she gazed at the patterns on the ceiling. She still had no idea where she was.

"I thought you might prefer something a little more comfortable," he said; she could tell by the sound and volume of his voice that he was approaching the bed and this was not something that she was ok with.

"Yeah, so what's next? You gonna tie me to a hot-tub?" she demanded, despite the rational part of her subconscious which suggested that she should perhaps not be pissing him off so much.

Instead of the anger which she had expected, he had the nerve to be amused. He laughed again, loudly, and she felt the end of the bed dip down underneath his weight. Oh, she was SO not ok with this…

"I must admit this is not something that I thought of, but I'll keep it in mind," he said, barely keeping a hold on his mirth. Sam was pissed - she didn't need to see his face to know that he was deriving a whole lot of fun from this encounter. Damned arrogant bastard.

"Well I'm glad that you can see the funny side of this, 'cause I'm sure as hell having a hard time doing that," she shot back, biting her lip against the gasp of horror as she felt his hand on her leg.

"If you would only relax," he said smoothly, "You would perhaps take the time to make the most of this situation." His hand moved a little farther up her leg, his fingers surprisingly soft but firm against her skin. Still, she supposed, trying to quell the shaking in her limbs, it wasn't like he ever did any proper work, just sat in his chair being an intergalactic pri-

"Don't…even…think…about…it," she ground out through her teeth, as his hand edged a little higher, reaching the top of her leg.

"Think about it, my love?" he smirked, "Oh, I tell you, I have thought about this every night since I first laid eyes on you."

"That is so gross," Sam mumbled. "I thought I was only a mere female of the Tau'ri?"

"Did I really say that?" he asked, supposedly incredulous.

"You know damned well what you said, and implied," she snapped. Still, this had the desired effect as he removed his hand from her leg.

"I underestimated you," he admitted, "You were able to modify the weapon and were successful in destroying the Replicators. Had you not done so, neither of us would be here today."

"Shame," she muttered, wondering where that action ranked on the stupidest-things-I've-done list which she was rapidly compiling in her head. Nope, still nowhere near the walking into O'Malleys which had resulted in her current predicament.

"Of course, I also played a significant role," he smirked, sitting back on the bed so that she was able to see him.

Ah, yes, I thought the ego-tripping was long overdue, Sam thought, but decided not to share this particular thought with him.

"Yes, you did," she humoured him.

"After all, without my knowledge of dialling multiple Stargates, even if you had managed to work the weapon it would be useless on any planet excepting Dakara. You see, we make a perfect team," he said smoothly.

"Hmm. No, I beg to disagree," Sam interrupted, "I am quite capable of mindless destruction and multiple Stargate-dialling without your interference."

At this, it seemed, his purported 'lenience' ran out. 

O

She felt a stinging sensation in her cheek, and the sound of the slap rang out across the small room. She closed her eyes as the ceiling began to swim before her eyes.

"I believe I warned you earlier about your continued insolence," he said, a menacing tone in his voice which had not been present before.

Sam decided that it would be better to remain quiet - better late than never, she supposed. God, she was turning into Jack O'Neill…

She knew what was coming, but fought the pain for as long as she could. The ribbon device seared into her forehead and burned at the back of her eyes as he continued, unrelenting. She cried out, her body jerking uselessly against the restraints which held her to the bed. The breath caught in her lungs; she felt herself rapidly losing control, what little of it she had left, of her body and determination not to give him the pleasure of hearing her scream.

Still, he showed no sign of stopping. Indeed, it felt to Sam as though he had increased, rather than decreased, the pressure which seared in her head and now began to spike throughout her whole body. Cruelly, he grabbed her side which had been injured in her attempt to escape, and dug his fingers into her skin, deep enough as to draw blood.

It was this which caused her to scream, giving him what he wanted, the feeling of absolute power and control which had momentarily been lost to him. With a sardonic smile, he eased off on the ribbon device and withdrew his hand, curling his fingers around the pulsating centre of the device, relishing the energy and power which still flowed within it.

"You are weak," he snarled at Sam, who only just skirted the edge of consciousness, struggling to catch enough breath to stay awake. "It would do you good to remember that."

With that, he stood and moved away from the bed. Sam waited as she heard his footsteps getting further and further away, before the door closed and she knew that he had gone. Then, and only then, did she allow herself a moan of pain and the tears which had been threatening to spill from her eyes during her torture.

She was so screwed.

O

To be Continued…

O

Author's Note: Ooh he's evil isn't he? Hope you enjoyed the chapter; please let me know what you think. See you next time… 


	5. Chapter 5

Title: Dichotomy pt5 

Rating: FR-M

Spoilers: Abyss, Reckoning pt2, Ex Deus Machina

Summary: Part 5: He thought he was so damned smart. Well, Ba'al wasn't going to take down Samantha Carter without a serious fight.

Author Notes: Sam/Baal pairing. I took the premise of Ba'al being on Earth from Ex Deus Machina and my muse is responsible for the rest. You've been forewarned about the pairing, too, so don't shout at me! (hides under bed) My first prime will deal with any flames, so don't waste your time.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognisable characters and places are the property of MGM, World Gekko Corp and Double Secret productions. This piece of fan fiction was created for entertainment not monetary purposes and no infringement on copyrights or trademarks was intended. Previously unrecognised characters and places, and this story, are copyrighted to the author. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead is coincidental and not intended by the author.

Dedication: For Sarah, always.

Dichotomy pt5

Copyright (c) August 2006, Ruth

O

Ba'al looked at the sleeping female with a mixture of distaste and fascination.

On the one hand, she was Tau'ri; his sworn enemy and an inferior being, an insolent one at that. However, since he'd first been forced to work with her on the planet Dakara, something had remained in the back of his mind, which was proving to be a great distraction and not something which he could get rid of.

More alarmingly, it was something that he did not want to get rid of; some part of him which was drawn to this female, despite her origins and actions against his fellow Goa'uld. He supposed she was not beautiful in the traditional sense, but he was deeply attracted to her none the same. Those eyes… a shiver coursed through his body and he closed his eyes, waiting for the sensation to pass. It was most undignified for a System Lord of his stature…for a System Lord of any stature, for that matter. Such an outward display of emotion, a particular kind of emotion; no, this was something which he had to check and he had to do it quickly.

He also despised her; that insolent tongue which she had no doubt learned from her commander, O'Neill. He sneered at the memory of the man, the most formidable warrior of the Tau'ri; whom he had come so close to crushing… He banged his fist hard on the end of the bed and got up, his robe swirling about his lean figure as he paced angrily.

What to do with her?

What to do with himself?

He couldn't well leave her, send her back to Stargate command; she'd give him away and his entire operation on Earth would be instantly, fatally compromised. No, the safety of his work was worth more than the life of this female, no matter how…intrigued…he was with her. She would remain his captive whilst he decided on a more permanent solution; fortunately it would be another week before her friends and colleagues even noticed that she was missing, so time was on his side.

He stopped his pacing and looked back to the unconscious figure on his bed; she was still out cold, no doubt suffering from the effects of the ribbon device. Ignoring the throbbing pain in his hand from his earlier outburst, he moved towards her again and sat down on the end of the bed.

It was her own fault, he reasoned, taking in the bruise beneath her right eye; she had been persistently impertinent since he had captured her, but also after his specific warning against behaving like this - there was no other way for him to retain and assert his absolute control over her. Still, it was a shame that he had to mark such flawless skin in such a way…

Wistfully, he stroked his fingers over the bruise, his gaze lingering on her face as she slept. Her breathing was still quick and shallow from the way in which he had tortured her. With that, he rose and left her to sleep. She would no doubt be awake again soon and causing him more problems. He straightened the sleeves of his robe and looked at himself in the mirror before leaving, satisfied with what he saw reflected there. Then, he was gone, the door shutting softly behind him.

O

Okay, this time, let's try not pissing him off, Carter's brain suggested when she awoke.

Good idea, brain, she thought, although how exactly do I go about doing that?

Well, I thought the hot-tub comment was pushing it a little

Oh please; it was the interfering and blowing up outburst that really got him

I believe it was probably the cumulative effect of your behaviour throughout the day

The day? How long have I been here? Sam wondered, pausing for a moment in her internal conversation. Talking to yourself, Carter, she smiled wryly, is the first sign of madness. However, madness was more than understandable considering the last couple of days that she'd had.

She no longer had any meaningful concept of time; the room had no windows and was artificially lit, with small, round lights set into the ceiling. Done to confuse and disorientate her, she reasoned. It was certainly working.

With a groan, she stretched out her arms and rubbed at her eyes…

Rubbed at her eyes? She was no longer tied to the bed. She sat up quickly; too quickly, as the blood rushed to her head and she had to lie back down again for a moment. Then, slower this time, she raised herself from the bed and rolled her shoulders, working the cramp from them. Her ankles had also been untied.

Gingerly, she swung her legs off of the bed and touched her feet to the floor. Her legs instantly became cramped and instead of standing, as she had planned, she nearly ended up in a heap on the floor. However, before she fell, a pair of strong arms grabbed her around the waist and held her up.

"Careful, my love," he said softly in her ear, "We wouldn't want you to…damage yourself."

No, you can manage that all on your own, she thought, but contained it just in time.

"I trust you slept well," he continued, without relinquishing his hold on her.

"Yes," she answered carefully.

"Excellent. Now, you must be hungry my love, you have not eaten in many hours." His hand flattened out over her belly as he chuckled low in her ear, "Wouldn't want you getting thin."

Then, as suddenly as he had caught her, he pushed her away from him again, with such force that she stumbled back and fell onto the bed, sitting up again quickly before he could take advantage. Again. Her skin prickled with the heat of where his hands had been, but she raised her eyes to meet his in a gesture of defiance.

"Come now, follow me," he said smoothly, taking a long glance at himself in the long mirror beside the door as he left. Sam rolled her eyes at the unbelievable arrogance of the man, before deciding that it would probably be better to follow him willingly than to be dragged.

O

They arrived at a large, open dining room after a short walk through some very dull and plain corridors; again with no windows so as to remove any risk of Sam finding out where she was and attempting escape. She stopped short when she saw a long table laid for two, complete with wine and somewhat luxurious looking food. Against all of her effort, her stomach rumbled loudly at the sight.

Ba'al laughed, his suspicions confirmed, she was in need of nourishment more than she had led him to believe. Whilst she was taking in the large room, he moved to the table and slipped his hand into the pocket of his robe. Casting a glance back at her, he drew out a small vial of liquid and poured a little into Sam's wine glass. With a small smile, safe in the knowledge that she would be no trouble for him tonight, he called her over, slipping the vial back into his pocket.

But she had seen him.

Pretending to look in admiration at the large fireplace at the centre of the room, she had kept one eye on him in his reflection, on a painting which was hung high on the wall. Surely he wouldn't be so bold as to drug her wine whilst she was just a few feet away from him?

Yeah, he was that bold alright. With a wry smile, she began to formulate a plan of sorts; Ba'al wasn't going to take down Samantha Carter without a serious fight. She pretended to look at the painting until he called her over to him, and as she drew closer she shot him what she hoped was a seductive smile.

He fell for it. Hook, line, and sinker - he was gone.

She was standing just a few inches away from him as he reached his hand into her hair, running it back through the golden strands with a look of deep satisfaction. He pulled her closer to him, his head dipping low. He's going to kiss me, she thought, this is my only chance.

Backing away slowly, she deliberately crashed into the table, with a gasp as the wood hit her back and legs. Ba'al chuckled, under the impression that he was reeling her in, slowly but surely.

How wrong he was.

He came close again, taking her chin in his hand and tilting her head up, his dark eyes boring into hers. This time, as he leaned in to kiss her, she didn't stop him; instead she returned the kiss with equal fervour. She felt him smirk against her lips and a surge of anger swept through her again.

Arrogant bastard. He thought he had her…he thought he'd done it. Well, he was in for a shock. As one of his hands moved around her waist, pulling her against him, her own hand slipped around him, with the pretence of holding him to her. However, he was suitably distracted as he placed a line of kisses down her neck and shoulder. She slipped her hand into the pocket of his robe and withdrew the vial, carefully popping the lid with one hand. Then, as surreptitiously as she could, she bent her arm behind her and emptied the contents into the wine glass which sat at his place. This being done, she slipped the vial up the sleeve of her top and waited for him to finish.

He eventually broke away from her, his lips curved in a smile which was at once infuriating and seductive. She hated his ability to arouse such long-buried feelings in her, but found comfort in the fact that he was about to be seriously done over; by a female of the Tau'ri, and he had no idea.

"Come, my dear, we must eat - gather our strength," he said suggestively.

Oh please, she thought, inwardly rolling her eyes but also silently praying that her gamble would pay off.

She sat down, her heart pounding in her chest as she picked up her glass of wine. His gaze was fixed on her as she brought it closer to her lips.

"A toast?" she suggested, raising her glass.

"To what are we toasting?" he replied, raising his own in response.

"To love," Sam smiled, running her tongue over her lower lip in a way she felt sure would captivate him, "and power."

O

She put the cup to her lips and drank deeply; his eyes never left hers as she did so. It was definitely drugged, she could tell from the taste. A twang of something sweet, which shouldn't have been there. She wondered how long it would be before it started to take effect. She lowered the glass, having consumed half of its contents.

With a smug look, Ba'al raised his own glass to his lips and, in a fit of arrogant superiority, drained its contents in one go. Sam smiled sweetly at him as he did this, fighting a desperate battle with her inner self which was creased up with manic, vengeful laughter.

Now is not the time! She chastised herself mentally; this is far from over, after all.

The drug, in fact, began to take effect in a matter of seconds. She felt her heart begin to race, and a blush spread across her cheeks. Still, his gaze was locked on hers. Her brain went into overdrive; why wasn't it happening to him? Then, it dawned on her, the symbiote. It would probably dull the effect of the drug and perhaps even remove it altogether.

Shit.

She put her hand to her head as her vision began to swim before her eyes, only dimly aware of him as he rose from his seat and moved to her side.

"You son of a bitch," she complained, as she felt her legs give way beneath her. He made no move to catch her; instead he smirked and watched her on the floor as the last waves of consciousness left her body. When she was out cold, he stooped and pulled her into his arms, leaving the room with a swagger and a low laugh.

As he neared his chamber, he began to wonder about the heaviness of his limbs. He had carried her before; she was far from hefty and it couldn't have been her weight. He felt a little pain beginning to develop between his eyes, but thought little of it as he laid her down on his bed. As he stood up, however, the pain worsened and his head swam a little.

What was going on?

He tried to straighten up, but felt his legs begin to weaken. He stumbled, catching hold of the end of the bed to stop himself from falling. Eyes wide, he reached into the pocket of his robe…

Empty.

As his limbs finally succumbed to the drug which she had so expertly snuck into his wine, his brain struggled to process what had actually taken place. She must have used the remainder of the vial in order to produce such an effect in him. It was potent stuff - he was only just beginning to realise how potent.

It appeared that, once again, he had seriously underestimated her.

"Clever girl," he smiled ruefully, before he slumped to the floor, unconscious.

O

To be Continued…

O

Author's Note: Hee-hee. I thought it was time for a little comeuppance. Hope you enjoyed the chapter; please click on my name to leave feedback. See you next chapter!


	6. Chapter 6

Title: Dichotomy pt6 

Rating: FR-M

Spoilers: Divide and Conquer, Abyss, Threads, Ex Deus Machina

Summary: Part 6: The universe would bow before his feet, and its people would forever serve and exult in the name of Ba'al…starting with Samantha Carter.

Author Notes: Sam/Baal pairing. Sam/Jack, Sam/Pete discussed. I took the premise of Ba'al being on Earth from Ex Deus Machina and my muse is responsible for the rest. You've been forewarned about the pairing, too, so don't shout at me! (Hides under bed.)

Disclaimer: All publicly recognisable characters and places are the property of MGM, World Gekko Corp and Double Secret productions. This piece of fan fiction was created for entertainment not monetary purposes and no infringement on copyrights or trademarks was intended. Previously unrecognised characters and places, and this story, are copyrighted to the author. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead is coincidental and not intended by the author.

Dedication: For Sarah, always.

Dichotomy pt6

Copyright (c) August 2006, Ruth

O

When Sam awoke, she was surprised to find that Ba'al was still sprawled, where he had fallen, on the floor. Fighting a somewhat childish urge to give him a good kicking, she sat up on the bed and rubbed at her face; that was certainly a powerful drug that he had used on her - and she, in turn, on him. Added to that, he'd only used a few drops on her; she'd emptied the vial into his.

She wasn't even sure that he was still breathing.

Getting up from the bed, she gingerly knelt on the floor beside him and looked for signs of breathing. She found them; his chest still rose and fell with a regular rhythm. It was a little shallow and she hated the concern which rose in her at finding this.

For goodness' sake, Sam, the guy kidnapped you and you're worried about him? The worrying concept of Stockholm syndrome briefly entered her mind before she brushed it away; it was ridiculous, she still hated him and stood against everything which he stood for. So there was nothing to worry about.

Standing up, she wondered how she could make the best use of this unexpected freedom to find out where she was, and more importantly how to get out. Casting one look back to the floor, in which she questioned just how long he would remain there, she went to the door and opened it, slipping out.

O

She was faced with a long corridor, without windows or other doors. The same small, round lights were set into the ceiling as had been in her room, but did not adequately light the space. As a result, Sam strained her eyes to see ahead of her in the dappled light. Sure, it had been a great idea to drug him and escape, but she had no idea where the hell she was, what day it was; if she was even still on earth!

She also had no idea of how long the drug would keep him incapacitated; but she doubted that it would be too much longer. His symbiote would, even now, be neutralising its effects, as she and the rest of SG-1 had learned on several occasions with Teal'c. Placing one hand on the wall to steady herself; she was still a little unstable on her feet, she began to walk forwards, wondering what she would face at the end of the corridor.

To her surprise, she was met with another corridor, almost identical to the first. However, on the left hand wall there was a small button, resembling a light switch, which had not been in the first. Why would there be one here and not there? She looked at it in puzzlement, with more than a little trepidation. She reached out her hand to touch it, and was surprised to find that it wasn't a button at all, but a flat disk which was set into the wall.

Belatedly it occurred to Sam that maybe it wasn't a light switch at all, but something else entirely. As her hand passed over the disk, she felt the floor lurch beneath her feet and was thrown into the air, nausea exploding in the pit of her stomach.

A gravity manipulator.

As she heard the sound of shouting and heavy footsteps approaching, she thought that really, she should have known.

O

Ba'al awoke with a groan and slowly eased himself up from the floor, cursing the Tau'ri female who had so ensnared him. He couldn't believe that she had managed to trick him, to undermine him in this way without his even knowing. It was humiliating beyond belief. If any of the other System Lords found out about this…he shuddered at the thought of his reputation, of everything that he had planned and worked for, shattered because of his lust.

What to do with her?

He asked himself this once more, a question which had been jumping around in his brain ever since he had kidnapped her from the bar. A little belatedly, he realised that it was perhaps not the greatest decision he had ever made. He was now lumbered with this…creature…who was more than a liability; she was a danger to him and to his plans. A danger which needed to be removed.

His mouth set in a grim line, he stood up and turned around, more than a little shocked to find Samantha sitting on the bed, watching him quietly. This surprise removed his ability to speak for a few seconds, in which she smiled nervously at him.

"I, ah…I had no idea what that stuff was, or what it would do," she began, twisting her hands nervously, "I didn't mean to knock you out, quite…like that, I mean - I was worried when you weren't breathing properly and…"

He cut her off with a wave of his hand and an angry shout.

"You would dare to treat a God in this way? By the time I am finished with you, Tau'ri, your already pathetic existence will no longer be worth living!"

His chest heaved in his anger and his eyes were dark. Hands balled into fists at his side, he glared at her, for the first time impotent in his rage.

"My lord," she said softly, her head bowed, "Please allow me to explain…"

"Silence, witch!" he snapped, backhanding her across the face and sending her sprawling back onto the bed. "I will be enchanted by you no longer! I am a God! I am all powerful and all knowing! And I always…" he leant down, to whisper in her ear, "I always get what I want."

He raised his hand to strike her again, a sneer on his lips, rejoicing in the power and control which he felt beginning to flow through his veins again. He would NOT be undermined by an inferior race, an inferior gender to himself. He was powerful and he knew it. He could have whatever he wanted in the entire universe; hell, even the universe itself could be his if his campaigns continued to be victorious as they had done. The universe would bow before his feet, and its people would forever serve and exult in the name of Ba'al…starting with Samantha Carter.

He smiled nastily at the woman on his bed, and began to shrug out of his coat when he felt a shudder tear through the floor beneath his feet. With a frown, he turned to look at the door, wondering what had happened outside to cause such a noise. Although, he smirked, at least he knew it wasn't…

He turned back to the bed and only just suppressed a gasp of horror; Samantha was gone.

O

He lurched away from the bed, more than a little confused. Had she not just been there, before him? His hand still burned from when he had struck her and yet she was no longer there; not even an impression on the sheet would reveal her presence. He turned around, checking each corner of the room. She was not there. Gone. Vanished before his eyes.

Perhaps this was still an effect of the drug. He'd never tried it before, so he had no real idea of its side effects - particularly not on himself; being drugged by a Tau'ri was not exactly an eventuality which he had prepared himself for. Shaking his head, as if to clear such thoughts from his mind, he pulled open the door and went out into the corridor.

He was met by several jaffa, those directly beneath the rank of his First Prime, who had remained on his mother ship whilst Ba'al carried out his operation on Earth. They were not as competent as he would have liked, but only a fool would have ventured so close to the Tau'ri Stargate Command without proper backup and protection.

"My Lord, your prisoner attempted to escape. The motion sensor detected her and activated the gravity manipulation field."

Ba'al forced himself to regain his earlier composure and straightened up, squaring his shoulders. Under no circumstances could he allow his jaffa to know of how she had overcome him.

"Excellent," he said.

"My lord, something must be done if you are to continue keeping her captive," the jaffa continued, "She is…somewhat difficult to contain."

"I am aware of that," he snapped, "Do you have any suggestions?"

"You could just kill her, my lord," another suggested.

Ba'al threw the offending jaffa a withering look.

"Yes, why not? It would merely attract the attention of the entire Stargate command and possibly the local authorities, exposing our entire operation and ourselves in the process. An excellent idea!" he snapped.

The jaffa in question looked suitably abashed and moved away.

Bracing himself on the wall, Ba'al deactivated the gravity manipulator and watched with no small amount of satisfaction as the unconscious Tau'ri slumped at his feet.

"Right," he said, gathering her in his arms, "This time you will be unable to escape…"

O

She was tied to the bed again.

With a small sigh, she tugged at the restraints which, she noticed, were tighter than usual.

"Why you continually deny yourself what it is you so obviously want is beyond me," Ba'al said, his tone conversational as he studied her reaction.

"Desire is a dangerous thing," she said, pulling at the restraints as if to emphasise that particular point.

"Not always," he said smoothly, "How else do you get what you want?"

Sam considered his question for a moment. For a long time, she had felt attracted to Jack. Hell, the Za'tarc incident had revealed that, to the both of them. Regulations and her own personal restraints, her fears and issues, had put pay to that. Now the moment had passed and the attraction along with it.

Then there had been Pete; in many ways he had been exactly what she wanted. He was loving, gentle, caring and cute! She smiled sadly at the memory. Even the promise of a new life, a long term relationship, a loving husband had not been enough. She had pushed him away.

The truth was a plain and simple fact, one which she had never confronted so starkly before; Samantha Carter did not get what she wanted. Sure, she loved her job and the people she worked with, but she had never given herself anything that she truly desired - hell, she couldn't even get a week's downtime without getting kidnapped.

"I don't," she said softly, a tear rolling down her cheek as the realisation finally hit her.

She closed her eyes against the wave of emotion which threatened to overcome her. This was SO not the time for a personal realisation, and there was no way she should have told Ba'al such a personal detail… He was going to make her life hell with that little gem. He must have been killing himself with laughter. God, it was no wonder he thought she was pathetic.

"Then perhaps it is time that you started," he suggested softly, his dark eyes locking with hers. He made no move to get up, or move closer to her as she had feared. Instead, he cast one long look at her before he got up and left the room, leaving Sam more confused than ever before.

O

To Be Continued…

O

Author's Note: The end of another chapter. Just wanted to say thanks for many continued reviews; please leave a comment if you're enjoying the story. See you next chapter!


	7. Chapter 7

Title: Dichotomy pt7 

Rating: FR-M

Spoilers: Abyss, Reckoning pt2, Ex Deus Machina

Summary: Part 7: They were System Lord and Tau'ri, male and female, yet perhaps they were more alike than they had imagined.

Feedback: Just click on my name, and you're done.

Author Notes: Sam/Baal pairing. I took the premise of Ba'al being on Earth from Ex Deus Machina and my muse is responsible for the rest. You've been forewarned about the pairing, too, so don't shout at me! (Hides under bed.)

Disclaimer: All publicly recognisable characters and places are the property of MGM, World Gekko Corp and Double Secret productions. This piece of fan fiction was created for entertainment not monetary purposes and no infringement on copyrights or trademarks was intended. Previously unrecognised characters and places, and this story, are copyrighted to the author. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead is coincidental and not intended by the author.

Dedication: For Sarah, always.

Dichotomy pt7

Copyright (c) August 2006, Ruth

O

"How else do you get what you want?"

"…I don't…"

"Then perhaps it is time that you started."

Their conversation still played through her head as she tried to sleep, needing to shake the feeling of exhaustion which had overcome her. What had he meant? Why had he not reacted in the way she expected; sarcasm, superiority, mirth, violence? He positively … understood. That was something which was going to take a while to get used to.

Of course, the possibility of an elaborate subterfuge remained lodged at the back of her mind; she wouldn't put it past him to play with her mind and her feelings until she opened up to him, providing him with information. And, she thought, a shudder running through her, whatever else it was that he wanted.

Still pondering that particular question, Sam fell into an uncomfortable sleep.

O

He ran his fingers gently through her hair, pulling it back from her face so that he could look at her, uninterrupted as she slept. Placing a brief kiss to her forehead, a smile broke out on his lips as he thought of the grief she would have given him for that, had she been awake.

This was the only time when he was able to enjoy her presence, regardless of what separated them; their race, their beliefs, their homes. Despite these differences, their dichotomy, they were instinctively whole and the attraction between them was undeniable.

It exasperated him, but at the same time it fascinated him; he longed to learn more about her, more than the purely physical desire which grew stronger in him by the day. His fingers paused at her collarbone, examining the bruise which had formed there; probably when she had activated the gravity manipulation field.

Truthfully, he had always held a degree of admiration for her. The only human females he had ever experienced before had been spineless, weak creatures, only too willing to divulge the secrets of their brothers, fathers, and husbands in order to escape capture. Samantha, on the other hand, had given him very little to go on - much less to actually put to use. Still, her revelation from earlier had occupied his mind for some time.

She didn't get what she wanted.

He found this difficult to comprehend; a woman of her strength, spirit, confidence and life would surely have everything at her disposal, everything that she wanted. Apparently not. He found it difficult to believe the sadness that he saw in those eyes, the tears that she had tried to hide from him. It was a side of her which he had never seen before, completely at odds with the proud, strong woman who had faced him over the ancient weapon at Dakara, daring him to comment.

He watched the slight rise and fall of her chest, finding some relief in the knowledge that she was sleeping. She would, at least, be the cause of no further distractions for a few hours. That left him enough time to think about how to approach her when she awoke, whether to restrain her or let her free, but the latter thought made him burn with jealousy and fear, two emotions which he would never admit to.

Jealousy; if he released her she would return to the SGC among the men he so despised; Teal'c, Jackson, Mitchell, O'Neill… It was only now that he recognised a part of his hatred of the Tau'ri stemmed from her; his desire to possess her, to make her his own, to take her away from them.

Fear; fear that she would expose him and his operation on Earth. However, this fear had been fading fast, he had other worries. Fear that she would reject him, completely and utterly, leaving him alone for the rest of his life. True, it wasn't as if he needed anyone to rule alongside him - in fact, he hated the very idea; he alone would rule, he alone would hold power. He had come to learn, however, that power didn't always provide him with what he wanted.

Perhaps they were more alike than they had imagined.

O

He must have untied her in the night, as she sat up on the bed and looked down at herself. Her clothes were rumpled and dirty, she'd been wearing them the night he captured her at O'Malleys and had no idea how long that had been. What she really needed was a bath, a long, hot bubble bath. She groaned at the thought of it, hugging her arms to herself. Yes, that would be perfection itself.

"Are you in pain?" he asked softly, causing her to gasp as she opened her eyes. She hadn't heard him come in, he moved silently but gracefully and sometimes it took her breath away. He had changed, and was now wearing robes of black, with small jewels sewn into the material. He looked magnificent, that she could not deny, and it scared her to think that this was a System Lord, her enemy, who was making her feel this way.

But what was she feeling? Her head was still sore and her brain more than a little so; she had not slept or eaten properly for days and was in desperate need of a bath. As such, she wasn't really in charge of her emotions and they ran riot through her, as she desperately tried to regain a modicum of control over them.

"No," she answered eventually, ignoring the irrational and frustrated part of her brain which had taken a great deal of interest in those powerful legs, covered with the finest black leather which seemed to stretch for miles. At their end was a pair of strong boots, which curiously made very little sound on the polished floor.

"What is wrong, my love?" he asked, sitting on the end of the bed, so close that she could smell him. It was some sort of cologne, dark and musky; she struggled to put it to the back of her mind before she answered him but he was like a drug, one infinitely more effective than that which he had put into her wine.

"You seem…tense," he continued, shifting closer to her on the bed, close enough to touch her. As his fingers made contact with her cheek she only just succeeded in stopping the groan which rose from deep within her, emitting a soft gasp instead. She tried to turn away from him, to remove herself from his arms; but he was so strong, so warm. She was frightened at the part of her that didn't want to, the part of her that was desperate for him to make his move, to put an end to this torment which he had started by taking her from O'Malleys.

"Please…" was the only word which slipped from her, so soft that he barely heard it.

But he did. And it threw him into turmoil. If she was… but then was she? How could he know, when she so obviously had no idea of herself? He was desperate to touch her, to hold her against him.

His lips descended onto hers and she made no move to stop him, welcoming his touch, his attention with the energy of one who had been starved of affection, of passion, for what seemed like an eternity. She knew instinctively that he had, too, and it was another bond which seemed to draw them closer together across the void which separated them.

Sam had not felt so happy in months; she realised, and no longer felt the need to restrain herself as his hands slid to her waist, marvelling at the toned expanse of skin he found there. She smiled against his neck and bit him there, gently, marvelling at the powerful sound which escaped his throat.

Pulling back for a moment, she looked into his eyes and knew that she was lost.

Hopelessly.

She was in love with a monster, a demon who had wished the death of her friends, though apparently not herself, on many occasions. The worst part was that she could not stop herself, could not keep these feelings inside, locked away in the darkest corners of her mind where they belonged.

No. She had let them out, let them escape.

Now all hell was about to break loose.

O

To be Continued…

O

Author's Note: It's getting hot in here…so please send me reviews! I always appreciate and reply to constructive comments. Many thanks for all those received so far. See you next chapter!


	8. Chapter 8

Title: Dichotomy pt8

Rating: FR-M (mild sexual situations & violence)

Spoilers: Abyss, Ex Deus Machina

Summary: Part 8: It was only a matter of time before they realised she was missing. 

Author Notes: Sam/Baal pairing. I took the premise of Ba'al being on Earth from Ex Deus Machina and my muse is responsible for the rest. You've been forewarned about the pairing, too, so don't shout at me! (Hides under bed.) ALSO: Although my inspiration was from the Season 9 ep "Ex Deus Machina", the story is not set in Season 9, so I still have Gen. Hammond, Jack and Sam as 'major' and not 'lieutenant colonel.' Just to clear things up.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognisable characters and places are the property of MGM, World Gekko Corp and Double Secret productions. This piece of fan fiction was created for entertainment not monetary purposes and no infringement on copyrights or trademarks was intended. Previously unrecognised characters and places, and this story, are copyrighted to the author. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead is coincidental and not intended by the author.

Dedication: For Sarah, always. Dichotomy pt8

Copyright (c) August 2006, Ruth

O

She was tied to the headboard.

Breathing hard, she levelled one of her trademark glares at him as he moved up her body; keeping the small dagger that he held in his right hand well within her view.

"Kinky," she said quietly, "Although I'm not surprised."

"Silence," he snarled, with a dangerous edge to his voice as he raised the dagger from his side.

Sam closed her eyes and willed herself to be calm as she felt the point of the dagger nip the skin of her throat.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked shakily, opening her eyes once more to meet his; only to find the dark, impenetrable abyss which resided in them.

"Because I can," he smirked, before plunging the dagger home, delighting in the sound of her scream.

…

Jack awoke with a start, sitting straight up in his bed and trying to quell the unnatural shaking of his limbs.

What the hell was all that about?

He looked over at the alarm clock to his left; it read 3:05.

A nightmare. That was all. Nothing to worry about.

Then why was he so stirred up?

It wasn't as if he'd never had nightmares before; hell, his encounter with Baal had pretty much screwed up his chances of ever having a perfect night's sleep. It wasn't exactly the first time that the Goa'uld had haunted him in his sleep - but it was the first time that Sam had been involved.

After his capture, his feelings towards Sam had been more confused than ever. True, several years had passed since the event itself, but he was always haunted by her face, looking down at him through that orange suit. Persuading him to do something against his nature, against his rules. Just so that he wouldn't die.

How ironic.

Some nights he held her totally to blame for what had happened to him; had she not persuaded him to accept the blending, he would never have gone with the Tok'ra, never ended up on that planet - and in Ba'al's clutches. Feelings of anger, deep and dark burned within him, usually quelled with alcohol and a long session in the gym. He was unable to reconcile this rage with the way he had felt for her; every time she smiled a part of him ached for some form of vengeance, for some repayment for the agony her actions had caused him.

Other nights, he recognised that she wasn't at fault. Without her, he would have died, forever and always, six feet under, pushing up the daisies, yada-yada. There was no way she could have known what would happen when he left with the Tok'ra that day, the day that would forever change him and the way he treated her.

His nightmare had brought all of the pain, the anxiety, the anger, flooding back to him in a mad rush that he had no control over. Why Sam? He usually had nightmares about Ba'al, but he had never connected Sam with them before. It confused, and even frightened a part of him.

Still, this was all in the past.

Wasn't it?

O

General Hammond looked grim when the members of SG-1 were seated in front of him.

All that is, except one.

"Gentlemen, by now you must have realised that I have only called you in for a very good reason."

"General, where's Sam?" Daniel asked hesitantly, afraid of the answer. The three men exchanged worried looks.

"On Tuesday we received this video footage from O'Malley's, of all places," Hammond replied, starting the recording.

The camera focused on a young, attractive woman in a skirt and a red top. She looked decidedly nervous and even jumped when the bartender placed a drink beside her.

"Hey, that's…"

"Sam," Jack finished.

The bartender said something to her which caused her to look up, at which point her hand seemed to clench into a fist at her side. She jumped up suddenly in her seat, but the camera wasn't angled correctly to see what, or rather whom, had caught her attention. In one movement she was on her feet and moving towards the door. At this point, the camera angle changed and caught on a tall man who had also risen from his seat. Wearing a long, dark coat and speaking into what appeared to be a mobile phone; he broke into a run and disappeared from the bar.

The footage stopped.

"I don't understand," Daniel began, "I mean, that was Sam, but…"

"Let me slow the footage down," Hammond said grimly, re-winding the tape until there was a shot of the man. At a slower speed this time, SG-1 was able to see clearly how he turned to the camera and smirked. When Hammond paused the recording, there was a stunned silence from the occupants of the room, broken only by Jack.

"Tell me that isn't who I think it is."

"I'm afraid so, gentlemen. After we received this, we attempted to contact Major Carter. She is not answering her home or cell-phone. We sent people to her house; they found seven days' worth of unopened mail. She hasn't been there for upwards of a week."

"But what would Ba'al want with Carter?"

O

She forced herself to pull away from him, attempting to rein her frenzied emotions in, once and for all.

What would Jack, Daniel and Teal'c think of her? Her family and friends? They would think her nothing but a whore, and a betrayer at that; this was her enemy, her people's enemy; what was she thinking even entertaining the idea of…

A deep blush rose in her cheeks and she turned away from him, embarrassed and torn.

"What is wrong?" he asked, and she did not miss the faint signs of irritation which had begun to seep into his tone.

"I…" she faltered, "I can't."

"You did not seem to have a problem a few moments ago," he snapped, pulling her back into his arms and kissing her deeply, as if to reinforce his point. 

"I'm not saying I don't want to," she continued, trying to pull herself out of his grasp but failing miserably. "I can't - what would they think?"

"To hell with them!" he said impatiently, "This is your life, your decision! You were only telling me how you never get what you want - and you wonder why? If you let other people make decisions for you, or if you involve others where they are not needed, it is small wonder that you never do anything for yourself!"

"And what happens when you get bored with me?" Sam asked, narrowing her eyes, "I mean, IF I was to ignore them. Sure, you'll love me for how long...a month? If you can even call it love. How long before you move onto the next whore?" she demanded.

He released her from his grasp, pushing her as far away from him as possible but still keeping eye contact.

"Do not presume to tell me how I feel, Samantha. I have not done so with you; I would appreciate the same courtesy."

With that, he was gone, though his scent remained on her clothes, the taste of him in her mouth.

O

Jack stood at the door of Sam's house, the keys feeling heavier in his hand; as if the absence of their owner had somehow been absorbed. He still wasn't sure what he was doing here; there was no need, after all, to confirm that she was gone. She'd not appeared at the SGC, she'd not been seen for over a week. However, it still felt unreal to him. Like a terrible dream.

His thoughts returned to the dream he had had early that morning and a shudder went through him. What would Ba'al want with Carter? It wasn't as if he had personal issues with her, like he did with himself…

At least, not that he was aware of.

O

Sam slammed her fist into the wall, the tears beginning to fall as pain shot up her arm. Frustrated, she cried out, sliding down the wall and cradling her injured hand to her body.

Oh Sam, she thought miserably, what have you done? 

O

To Be Continued…

O

Author's Note: Nothing much to add really. Just a plea; if you enjoyed it, please leave a comment. Many thanks to those who have reviewed before, I really appreciate it. See you next chapter. 


	9. Chapter 9

Title: Dichotomy pt9 

Rating: FR-M (violence)

Spoilers: Abyss, Reckoning pt2, Ex Deus Machina

Summary: Part 9: She was a traitor to her people and to herself. He was not a System Lord for nothing.

Author Notes: Sam/Baal pairing. I took the premise of Ba'al being on Earth from Ex Deus Machina and my muse is responsible for the rest. You have been forewarned about the pairing, too, so do not shout at me! (Hides under bed.)

Disclaimer: All publicly recognisable characters and places are the property of MGM, World Gekko Corp and Double Secret productions. This piece of fan fiction was created for entertainment not monetary purposes and no infringement on copyrights or trademarks was intended. Previously unrecognised characters and places, and this story, are copyrighted to the author. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead is coincidental and not intended by the author.

Dedication: For Sarah, always.

Dichotomy pt9

Copyright (c) September 2006, Ruth

O

He was beyond angry.

Earlier, his jaffa had informed him that Samantha's colleagues had become aware of her absence and his part in it. This left him in a dangerous and even vulnerable position. He knew how resourceful the Tau'ri could be, particularly when defending one of their own, which left him with relatively few options.

Why had he risked everything in the first place? He had known it was foolish, tempting fate, drawing himself closer to Cheyenne Mountain than he had ever dared to tread before; but he could not help himself. There was just something about her. He grimaced as he remembered the events of the previous night. He, they, had been so close. However, at the last minute, her loyalty to her friends and people had outweighed her supposed feelings for him. She had shown her true colours. She had manipulated him, used him, even humiliated him; the incident of the drugs had haunted him almost continuously.

He could not allow this to be finished without some form of retribution. He was a god, after all, moving in far higher circles than the prey that he currently held within four walls. He would triumph, gain exactly what he wanted and needed, because this was what he always did. He was not a System Lord for nothing.

With a resolute and only mildly narcissistic glance in the mirror, he straightened his coat and left his room, every inch of himself exuding power and confidence. He had no reason to be anything less.

O

Sam, in the meantime, was not faring so well.

She had slept badly; for most of the night she was sat against the wall, trying to ignore the myriad of emotion and feeling that exploded inside of her. Her hand throbbed painfully from where she had driven it into the wall. Though the blood was dry, the pain was fresh and oozed from every part of her being.

She was a traitor. She was a traitor to her friends; had actually entertained, and enjoyed the pleasure that could have been gained from his company and his body. She had not only sided with the enemy, she had seduced him. She was only thankful that she had not taken the final step and actually...

Sam put her head in her hands. She was a traitor to herself. She knew in her heart that a part of the aching and the pain was the result of ignoring her needs, her desires. Again. She was two very different halves of the same whole. Sam Carter the soldier and Samantha Carter the civilian. Trying to reconcile the two was proving impossible.

By now the guys had to have realised that she was missing. She was still uncertain as to how long she'd been in Ba'al's custody, but it had to have been a week at least. Even she wasn't that unsociable. The thought comforted a part of her, but infuriated the other. If she went back to the SGC, continued to work, to fight the Goa'uld, she would become the soldier and ignore the parts of herself that had surfaced again in the last week. Her feelings, her needs and desires. All forgotten by soldier Sam.

It was hopeless. Not for the first time in her life, Sam wondered if she might not have been better without it.

O

Jack paced the length of the briefing room, his hands clenching into fists at his side. He then turned around and re-traced his steps, his gaze fixedly on the floor.

"Jack, would you just stop?" Daniel snapped, breaking the silence that had descended on the room and its occupants.

"Stop what, Daniel?" Jack shot back, "Thinking about how we're going to get Sam back? Thinking about what I'm going to do to Ba'al when I get my hands on him?"

"I believe that event would be highly unlikely, O'Neill," Teal'c interjected, "Ba'al is no fool, I am in no doubt that he would prevent you from any such action."

"Yeah? Well, I'm no fool either and neither is Sam. We'll kick his slimy butt and we'll do it properly this time, so he won't bother us again!"

With that, Jack stormed out of the room, leaving his very worried friends behind.

O

"Sleeping late?" A dry sarcasm greeted her as she squinted against the light from the open door.

Before she could come up with a response, a strong hand grabbed her and roughly hauled her to her feet. Unfortunately, his iron grip closed on her injured hand, drawing a cry of pain from her as he slammed her back into the wall. This did not go unnoticed.

"What have you been doing to yourself?" He asked in exasperation, throwing her hand back as casually as if it had been a piece of garbage.

"Funny you should ask that," Sam replied, through gritted teeth. "I'd say much of this was your doing."

"Oh, you would, would you?" He snarled, "Well, my love, as of last night I no longer care what you think! All that matters is what I think, what I want!"

Blue eyes cold and full of hatred greeted him, which made him laugh.

"Yes," he purred, "Those are the eyes I know."

He stroked his thumb across her chin, caressing the soft skin there, before he forced his lips onto hers. She struggled very little, he was pleased to find, though he suspected it was more due to her exhaustion than any sort of desire.

"You have no idea what you have so foolishly rejected. But you will begin to see, and with that regret, the mistake you have made."

"Sounds like a threat," she said, glaring at him defiantly.

"No, my love," he said smoothly, "It is a promise, one that I will enjoy the fulfilment of."

"I bet you will," she shot back.

"You know the pain I am capable of causing you," he said, incredulous, "Why do you insist on such insolence?"

"The pain you are capable of causing me is nothing compared to what I do to myself," she replied sadly, looking him straight in the eye, "And that's no lie."

For a second, he found himself drawn back, enticed by the tortured soul that seemed to reside in such a strong warrior's body. He longed to immerse himself in the depths of those deep blue eyes, to ease the longing of his own heart and find one that would share in his isolation. To find a mate.

However, he had been tricked by this before, and was no longer convinced.

"I would not be so sure of that," he warned, pulling her away from the wall and throwing her into the grip of the waiting jaffa.

"You know where to take her," he said coldly, watching as she was taken from the room, choosing to ignore the sudden twisting in his chest.

O

"So, basically, we have no way of knowing where Sam is."

"That's more or less what I'm saying, son. There's no footage from the front of O'Malleys, so we have no idea what vehicle he may have escaped in. Even if we did, it's more than likely that he has changed it."

"That's assuming that we're even talking about Earth, here," Daniel added, "What's to keep him here if it's Sam that he wants?"

"But is it?" Jack asked, "Or is he just using her to draw us out? I still can't understand what he would want with Sam - his beef is with me, not her."

Daniel nodded in agreement.

"However, that is also an assumption, O'Neill," Teal'c replied, "For all that we are aware, Ba'al may well have his own issues with Samantha Carter. Who are we to think that we know his mind?"

"But he's hardly ever met her!" Jack shouted, "Okay, once, but surely she didn't do anything in that amount of time to piss him off; even I couldn't manage that!"

"Of this we cannot be sure," Teal'c said, clasping his hands in front of him, deep in thought. He too was puzzled by Ba'al's choice of captive, O'Neill was the logical one, himself or Daniel Jackson the next so. However, he was also certain that Ba'al would not have risked exposing himself for no good reason; there was some connection here that they were missing, and they needed to find out what it was.

O

Maybe he had been right.

She'd forgotten quite how spiteful the Goa'uld pain sticks were.

"Why...are you doing this?" She gasped, drawing painful gulps of air into her lungs. "You know... you don't have to. I won't... please!"

He ignored her, his face set in grim determination until her cries had ceased. Only then did he bring himself to look at what he had done. The stick fell from his trembling hand to the floor. He didn't bother to pick it up, only closed his eyes against the onslaught of an emotion he was only just beginning to understand.

Grief.

O

To Be Continued...

O

Author's Note: My humblest apologies for the delay. Hope you enjoyed the chapter, can't believe we're almost into double figures! Please feel free to leave a comment, I reply to all reviews and love receiving them. See you next chapter!


	10. Chapter 10

Title: Dichotomy pt10 

Rating: FR-M (violence)

Spoilers: Abyss, Reckoning pt2, Ex Deus Machina

Summary: PART 10: She loved the stars, had dreamed of them since she was young, and he ruled them, held them in the palm of his hand. (Sam/Baal)

Author Notes: Sam/Baal pairing. I took the premise of Ba'al being on Earth from Ex Deus Machina and my muse is responsible for the rest. You have been forewarned about the pairing, too, so do not shout at me! (Hides under bed.)

Disclaimer: All publicly recognisable characters and places are the property of MGM, World Gekko Corp and Double Secret productions. This piece of fan fiction was created for entertainment not monetary purposes and no infringement on copyrights or trademarks was intended. Previously unrecognised characters and places, and this story, are copyrighted to the author. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead is coincidental and not intended by the author.

Dedication: For Sarah and Gavin, dear friends departed, who will never be forgotten

Dichotomy pt10

Copyright (c) January 2007, Ruth

Author Note: This is intended to be read alongside Breaking Benjamin, "Until the End," however these have been removed due to new guidelines regarding song lyrics. Sorry if the story seems a little jumpy without them. Ruthie, 01-19-08.

O

When Sam opened her eyes, she was certain that she was dead.

Her memory of the torture was patchy, at best, but she was confident that she wouldn't have survived. In all of the times she had suffered at the hands of a Goa'uld, alongside her friends, she couldn't remember such agony, so deep and fire-hot that it seemed to burn her to her very soul. She knew why he had done it - she could appreciate his motivation. She even appreciated the act, in a remote way - if indeed she was dead, as she currently thought.

But was she? Something burned at the back of her mind, a bright light that seemed to explode in her eyes as she forced them open. She was indeed surrounded by light, but not of the heavenly variety. A groan escaped her lips.

A sarcophagus.

O

He should have felt exalted.

Power, brute strength had radiated from the very core of him as he held the broken body of his rival in his arms, waiting for the moment of revenge that his symbiote had so relentlessly demanded. But he didn't. Instead, he felt.. He slammed his fist on the control panel impatiently; he didn't know what he felt, and he hated it.

He cast a furtive glance back at the sarcophagus, his mind returning inevitably to its occupant. She would be the end of him, of that, he was now certain. Surely, they could no longer continue to inhabit the same universe and remain whole within it - they were, though a part of him was loath to use the term, in love, but they were bound by a far deeper animosity between their two races, a relationship doomed to failure.

If his ancestors could see him now, he smiled ruefully; they would have him put to death on the spot. The price of betraying the Goa'uld - that was, he supposed, more or less what he was doing, in consorting with the enemy - could be nothing but death. It was a question of betrayal, either way: betrayal of his ancestry, his race, or his heart. It was proving to be a far harder decision than he had ever imagined.

O

A blast of warm air rushed across her face as the doors to the sarcophagus slid open. Warily, Sam pushed herself into a sitting position, wincing at the charred hole in her jacket, simultaneously relieved that her jacket was now the only thing to show the mark of her torture. She looked around her, and bit back a cry of surprise as she saw Ba'al sitting, with his back to her, just a few feet away.

She was about to call out to him when his voice cut across the silence between them.

"You force me to harm you."

Rather than the smirk, the arrogance she was expecting, his voice almost seemed tinged with regret. This wasn't something she was entirely prepared for, a concerned system lord? Particularly this concerned system lord.

"I guess I did," she agreed, lifting herself fully out of the sarcophagus, wobbling a little on unsteady legs as her feet touched the hard floor.

He turned to face her, with an impassive expression that did not quite reach his eyes. There, she saw something else entirely, a depth of feeling far greater than words could express. She sat back down again, roughly, on the edge of the sarcophagus.

"This will never work, Samantha," he said softly, certainly with regret this time. "We are..."

"From two different worlds," she finished, "Enemies," hating the word as it grated in her mouth.

"Adversaries," he smirked, "I feel the term 'enemy' might be a little strong in this context."

He rose from where he had been seated, with a regal air, on his throne and moved gracefully towards her, extending his hand to her. She looked at it warily, a sudden flashback to the pain stick, searing her flesh as it was pressed, mercilessly, on her, occupying her thoughts. He saw the discomfort flash across her face and dropped his hand, instead beckoning to her to follow him. It was only natural that the fragile trust existing between them would have been broken by this latest encounter.

He led her over to the window and for a while, the two looked out at the stars together, without a word passed between them. She loved the stars, had dreamed of them since she was young, and he ruled them, held them in the palm of his hand.

It was surely fate that had brought them together, and reason that would tear them apart.

O

"The enormity of it," he smiled sadly, "You would not think that two lives could be so significant within it as to tear its foundations apart. To destroy it, even."

"I don't understand," she replied, looking from the stars to his face, before returning to the vast universe before her once more.

"No," he smiled, "You are still so young, Tau'ri. You have much to learn."

Her eyes narrowed and she folded her arms, glaring at him.

"I see."

He laughed softly, bringing his hand to her face to cup her cheek, gently brushing his thumb across the smooth skin.

"I meant no offence, Samantha. Your race has always been... passionate in self-defence."

Sadly, then, he drew her to his breast and held her there, smoothing a hand through her hair, knowing that this could not be. They remained there, together, for a long time, watching the universe go on around them, totally indifferent to their being there, and yet at the same time, totally hostile towards them.

His hand found hers, and their fingers linked as they looked at one another, choked. Their last night, gazing out at the stars. It could not be. He opened his mouth to speak, but before a word could be uttered the two were knocked from their reverie by a loud crash. The ship rocked beneath their feet, and the control panels sparked. A warning alarm began to ring as the ship's defences were compromised. Then, another blast, seemingly greater than the first, which threw them both to the floor.

"We're under attack."

O

To Be Continued...


End file.
